


Not Your Usual Coffee Shop AU

by zjass06



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista!Nico Di Angelo, But not your usual coffee shop AU, Doctor Will Solace, Doctor!Will Solace, M/M, Nico Di Angelo is an angel, Oneshot, Well he is according to Will, Will is a Mess, solangelo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 00:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19345522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjass06/pseuds/zjass06
Summary: Will feels so blessed that he might just run outside and sing hallelujah to the relentless rain clouds above.That is, when, Will first spots the artificial glow in the early, storming hours of 3:46am — or maybe it's the late hours, Will's too exhausted to consider it.OrWhen an exhausted Will finds himself at a 24/7 coffee shop with a very cute Italian barista.





	Not Your Usual Coffee Shop AU

Will feels so blessed that he might just run outside and sing hallelujah to the relentless rain clouds above. 

That is when Will first spots the artificial glow in the early, storming hours of 3:46am — or maybe it's the late hours, Will's too exhausted to consider it.

That day (or yesterday) had not been Will's best of shifts, but he also doesn't think that any 17 consecutive hour shift could be defined as enjoyable — or even legal at that. He curses every single ounce of goodness in his heart for not being able to turn down the nurses' practically puppy eyed plea to just stay and overtime for just an hour or two extra. He hates himself for just not saying he had somewhere to be; he despises himself for being such a shit liar which is exactly what brought him to this position right here.

One or two hours shifted into several more, and before he even knew it he ended up doing double. 17 agonising hours of absolute nothingness. Because, no, Will wasn't even needed there. Nope. And unlike a paramedic's emergency call of someone who'd apparently gone into cardiac arrest ended up being a false alarm, Will waited around, prepared for nothing. But don't worry, the blond kept himself occupied with 'patients' who had been 'in too much pain' to even try and at least be polite. (He even had a patient that basically demanded some sort of prescription for what was only a sore throat and what that particular patient was 110% sure was throat cancer. Needless to say, Will's patience was very soon morphed into an urge to grab the nearest scalpel and stab it through his eye.) 

And when Will finally saw the light, shift over and done with, he got in his car barely able to keep his eyes open; headed down his journey only to find that a certain road was blocked due to construction and the blond was then forced to have to take the long route home. The hour and a half route home.

And that's what brought Will to this moment right now, where he almost snapped the indicator out of its socket with the sheer force he whacked it with as he pulled into the car park. He finds himself drawn to the bright, red 'Open 24/7' sign like a moth to a flame, an unknown source of miraculous energy enabling Will to enter the coffee shop without collapsing on his face.

Expectedly, it's devoid of customers and Will very quickly pegs that as a good thing because he seriously doesn't know what he'll do if he runs into yet another mishap tonight. He's never been to this place before, nor was he even aware of it's existence, so naturally Will doesn't know whether he's supposed to walk up to the counter or just take a seat. However, he does get the feeling that if he stays on his feet for too long he'll very soon be finding himself in a immobile heap on the black and white tiled floor so he slides into a booth instead. 

The blonde doesn't seem to remember that he's actually waiting for something but that's insignificant as Will's vision begins to darken; his eyelids becoming much more heavier by the second. Will doesn't become aware of much of what he's doing there until a lightly accented voice intrudes his almost slumber.

"Hey doc, you alive in there?"

Will's eyes open slightly at that, really just to know where such a nice, smooth voice originated from. He found himself blinking the blurriness out of his hazed vision so he could make out the figure that stood in front of him. It was then, Will thought, that he might be dreaming as he lays his eyes upon a handsome looking young man with pretty, dark hair and matching pretty, dark eyes. Even if that hair was pulled into a low, scruffy ponytail and those eyes squinting with mirth, they were still very pretty features. Will concludes that they are too pretty for the real world.

"Is this a dream?" Will asks, just to make sure because he likes to be absolutely certain on things — to give a sense of closure. However, judging from the way pretty boy's dark eyebrows knit together with a wave of confusion washing over his expression, Will thinks that maybe he is wrong.

"Not that I'm aware of," the raven haired man replies, and is regarding Will with the stink eye. "How drunk are you, doc?"

The blond frowns because he's not drunk — and is a little bit offended to be labelled as such — but he lets it slide. "I'm not drunk. Also, my name isn't Doc, it's Will."

The waiter seems to find that amusing and Will can't seem to figure out why. "Long shift I presume?" And the blond finds himself nodding grimly and he chuckles. The man opens his mouth again, his nice, thin lips about to say something else before there's an intruding cough that cuts him of. The waiter narrows his chocolate eyes in somewhat annoyance, not even trying to prevent it from seeping into his tone. 

"Hello, welcome to Deb's. My name is Nico, and I'll be your waiter today," he practically forces out and even with the fakest of smile that graces his face Will still finds it a tad bit heartwarming. "What would you like to order?"

"Espresso," Will responds and his tone is a little bit less slurred with exhaustion. Nico nods and he looks like he's about to head back over to the counter but Will continues, "But except from it being in that tiny cup thing can I get it in, like, a big bowl instead?"

Nico tilts his head to the left slightly and Will can't seem to have his brain work out why he looks so confused. 

"No," the waiter says back, and it's laced with both equal amounts of confirmation and disbelief. "Jesus Christ and you drove here?" he continues in the same tone, but it's more quiet; as if he's questioning it to himself but Will still picks up on it regardless of his dreary state.

"I'll get you some coffee, how do you take it?"

"You're pretty."

"So I'm just gonna make that black and no sugars," the waiter announces; strolling away completely discarding Will's comment. 

As the blond waits, he finds that the wooden table looks like it can actually be quite comfortable. And his hypothesis is confirmed as he crosses his arms upon its surface and rests his head on top of them. Yeah, that would make do; Will's eyes drift close and he can just feel himself about to fall asleep—

—Until he's suddenly assaulted with a wet rag that slaps onto his exposed neck, feeling the ice cold water dampen his scrubs, sending a chill down his spine. 

"No sleeping, I'm almost done with your drink," calls Nico from beyond the counter, a couple feet away. Despite the attack, Will's a little glad Nico threw the cloth on him, he feels a little more awaken, a little more refreshed and perhaps he can make it home in this state, or at least reduce the risk of injury on the road by a solid 5%.

In no time, Nico's back to his booth with a steaming cup in hand. He places reverently on the table, "Be careful, it's pretty ho—"

Will picks up the cup, immune to his weeping finger tips which sent dull signals to his even more dulled brain saying: Warning, idiot. This shit is hot as fuck. But then, he ignores it and takes two scalding gulps of the bittersweet liquid; not even wincing at the high temperature.

Distantly, he hears Nico whisper: "Idiota," but he ignores that too.

Three more healthy gulps down the hatch and Will's glad he's got most of his senses back. His brain still feels like sludge but he's relieved that he at least the lights don't look like a splatter of bokeh decorating the ceiling. He's also a lot more aware of Nico's presence, and he winces (hopefully not too noticeably) as he recalls his own lack of filter, but that doesn't seem to scare the waiter away, especially when he slides into the booth across him.

"Better?"

"Better." Will replies, and he hopes the gratefulness is evident in his tone but all it seems to do is play out like a Snickers ad in his mind. Not exactly what he'd call for go-to conversation with the hot Italian sitting opposite him.

Regardless, there's a small, deep chuckle that emits from him and in spite of Will's terrible ability to socialise in that moment he's glad that he's heard that sound. It's small, yes, but still very much there and still very much resonating over and over again in the blond's mind. 

"So how long was your shift?" Nico asks and Will still kinda thinks he's floating in dreamland because that voice is so hypnotic it could basically charm him to do whatever Nico desired. 

He pushes that thought into a corner of his spent brain, "17 god damn hours." Two more gulps of the slightly warmer but still undrinkable coffee and Will realised that most of his tastebuds are temporarily burnt away. Still, he takes another sip.

Nico whistles long and low in response, his naturally pink tinted lips in a sweet pucker that Will really wants to kiss. 

"Yeah, it was useless anyways," he picks up the cup for another splash of coffee but frowns down upon it at the realisation of it being empty, "Can I get another cup?"

Nico tuts and shakes his head softly, "No can do, trust me, you'd rather be half asleep than buzzing of that shit. It feels like crap. Besides, I already gave you twice the portion size."

Maybe he could get home then, sure he's a little bit jittery while his head feels like gloop but he can manage. He's only got around 45 minutes left down the route anyway; perhaps if he just blasts his radio he would just find it impossible to fall asleep.

Will's jolts noticeably at a raspy shriek from beyond a pair of double doors on the other side of the tiny coffee shop. Forming around the words of, "Di Angelo! Get your ass over here right now!"

Nico groans from across him, explicitly irritated but he stands begrudgingly anyways. "Duty calls," he says with a tone dripping with exasperation as he heads of to the direction of the voice.

There's quite a bit of back and forth yelling, but Will gives up on trying to pick up on the muffled words after a few seconds of it. He finds his fingers drumming against the laminate wood of the table, lamely in beat to a quiet song Will had only just realised was playing. For a second, he didn't know what he was still do there, but then he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a bit of change for his drink.

Nico burst through the double doors with a scowl. Will watches (not so subtly) as the Italian storms behind the counter, places his palms on the flat of it, and just breathes in and out. The blond picks up he's calming himself, and he even looks good while doing that and it's just simply unfair at this point. He doesn't realise how intently he's staring until Nico's eyes darts to his, gesturing for him to come over.

Will would like to say he slides out to the booth with the same amount of grace and elegance as the Italian did, but with his scattering, no longer functioning brain cells he finds himself stumbling slightly on his feet instead. Nice, way to go Will, dumbass, he thinks but he's too tired to even blush and that's perhaps the only good thing that comes out of the whole thing — or maybe it's the gods way of showing him mercy. 

"What was that about?" The blond asks after regarding Nico's still pissed of expression, there's a flicker of softness across his face but it disappears just as rapidly as it appears.

He sighs, "Nothing, she hates me and I hate her." The Italian shrugs it off nonchalantly, "Anyways, that's four fifty."

Will squints at his open palm so he can actually see the change so he can piece out the right amount. Eventually though, he gives up and empties the contents onto the counter. "You know what, just take it all. Tip yourself with whatever the hell is leftover."

"You're gonna die on the road," is all he replies blandly as he actually counts the change.

Will hums in agreement, "Can you speak at my funeral? You'll probably be the only one to know that the true reason I die out is because I fell asleep on a 45 minute drive home."

He's only half joking, but with the way Nico's head swiftly jerks up and his alluring eyes snap towards his wide and incredulous, Will thinks he may have taken it a little more seriously. 

"45 minutes?!" And Will only nods slowly, "Yeah, there's no way. Come on, I'll drive you home."

Okay, unexpected for sure. "But what abou—"

"Hey, Deb!" Nico calls over his shoulder, cutting Will off completely.

"What?!"

"I'm quitting!"

"Fuck you!" 

Nico only flashes a grin to Will, sparing no time shrugging of his green apron and tossing it behind him. Spontaneously, he hops smoothly over the counter and lands steady on his feet. 

"Let's go," Nico says, and is sauntering out of the door while Will is still stood there. Blinking; still processing what the fuck just happened.

He catches up with the programme eventually due to Nico's too eager gesture to follow and he can't help but feel slightly envious. Will could only wish he could pull something as ballsy as that off. But no, Will has to instead volunteer to participate in extra work. Besides, if the blond ever just quit out of the blue just like Nico did, he was certain he would not look as half as cool as the Italian.

Mildly suspicious, the blond trudges through the rain towards and can't help but admire the scene before him. The torrents soaks both of them, and Nico looks too fucking good, arms crossed; smirking with overflowing mirth as he leans against Will's car. (Aka the only car in the whole parking lot.) 

Will's tired, and even though he could fall asleep in the puddle in that moment, he's still cautious. "What if you abduct me and kill me?"

The (ex)waiter laughs at this, "Well then the choice is yours. Kill yourself on the streets or have me murder you instead. Either way, you'll end up dead."

Will's frowning, too famished to even pick up on very obvious sarcasm. Nico rolls his eyes, "I promise I won't murder you," he says in faux solemn, "Cross my heart."

Just for safe measures, the blond rakes his gaze up and down the Italian's body. But instead of picking up any signs of applicable danger he's too distracted by the legs that look like they can go on forever. Somewhere in Will's mind, he dumbly finalises that Nico's merely too attractive to be an axe murderer, so he shrugs and tosses Nico his keys.

There's not a lot of conversation after Will tells the man his address, but it's not necessarily uncomfortable either. The radio hums in the background which works like a treat to diffuse any awkward tension that could have potentially accumulated — he supposes the soothing, almost synchronised patter of rain upon the windscreen helps to, it's gentle and calming. Will takes it as a perfect opportunity to draw his analysis of his unexpected chauffeur, and he's laid back in his passenger seat as he looks through the details of Nico's face.

The blond can't seem to spot a single imperfection, and too be completely honest it makes Will kinda pissy — in spite of his immense gratefulness. Literally no one looks that good, and as his eyes hover over the pale, angular jaw and sharp cheekbones, Will's pretty sure he'd been hand craft by the angels. Better yet, maybe he is an angel.

"Are you an angel?" Will asks, because he really needs to know. It would be so cool if a literal angel drove him home. Maybe Nico's his guardian angel.

Nico's lips press together, but that doesn't seem to do a great job at hiding the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards, "Seems like your coffee's worn off."

"You're not denying it."

Briefly taking his eyes of the road, the Italian peers direct at him, "No, Will, I am not an angel. If I was I wouldn't of had that shitty job." And then he faces away once more, his arm reaching out for a gear change.

"Why'd you have that job anyways?" The blond asks, slumping more snuggly into the seat.

"It's not exactly like I can waltz in anywhere and get any job with the snap of my fingers," he sasses back, it's good natured but Will can't help but disagree.

"You can be a model. They'll take you in a heartbeat."

"Fucking hell," Nico whispers mostly to himself; he shakes his head mildly and there's a spillage of crimson across his cheeks. "You really have no idea what you're talking about, huh?"

The blond can't help but feel a little affronted, "Yeah I do!" He states confidently, "Like you can be any sort of model. Maybe for your hair, but I think you'll also make a great underwear model. You look like you—"

"Okay, so here's an idea. I'll consider it if you fall asleep for me," Nico barters and that sounds like a pretty solid deal to Will at that point.

"Deal," he affirms, and for the first time in two days, he's asleep to Nico's quiet mumble of "fucking adorable moron."

When Will eventually wakes, he can't seem to remember the last time he's felt so refreshed. The sheets are feathers between his legs and the daylight filters through the curtains with the perfect intensity. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels like he's in heaven, but then that's also a bit ridiculous, but life seems to be at its peak in this moment. He turns in his bed, smiling with a reason even unbeknownst to Will himself, sitting up upon the mattress just staring at nothing in particular. It's not until he reaches over for a glass of water he notices a folded piece of paper on his bedside table, and with a thump of his heart, he reads it.

Dearest Will,

I'd say after yesterday, you definitely owe me. (No, yesterday's events were not a dream and I hope right now you're really embarrassed with all the shit you told me.) But you 100% owe me dinner because I quit my god damn job because of you. If you don't, then just remember: I know where you live and will probably end up murdering you like you thought I would yesterday. 

Love,  
Nico.

Will panics as he flips the letter over, which had 11 numbers scripted in the equally perfect handwriting. Last nights memories flash in our in his head; he groans as he drags his palm across he cheek in embarrassment. 

As much as he wanted to dial the number, he couldn't possibly face Nico again after that, he'd practically blush until he dies.

But then his phone is just sitting there on his desk, and without a second thought he types in the combination and listens to the anxious beeping.

"Hello?" Greets Nico's heavenly voice on the other line. It's slightly static which eliminates it's smoothness, however it's knotted with a smidge of hopefulness and Will can't help but grin.

And he can't believe he's admitting this, but maybe that 17 hour shift wasn't that bad after all.


End file.
